


It Lights a Fire in You

by GoggledMonkey



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: Anachronistic, F/M, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoggledMonkey/pseuds/GoggledMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben's been in love with Hansel and Gretel since he was thirteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Lights a Fire in You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maekala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maekala/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide Maekala! I had a lot of fun with your prompt. I hope you and your little poly heart enjoy.

 

Ben was barely thirteen the first time he reads about Hansel and Gretel, witch hunting duo. The story lights such a fire in Ben that the siblings burrow their way into his brain and heart and he never lets them go. He read –no that's not the right word- he consumed everything about them he can get his hands on. He memorised the weapons, the tactics, and the location of every witch kill. He could recite it all in his sleep.

He spent his teenage years imagining meeting them.

Ben had two different (though thematically similar) fantasies where he met Hansel and Gretel. In the first one, he'd be a witch hunter too, and he'd be sitting in a bar one evening, serious and fearsome, two pistols at his hip. He'd notice when the siblings came into the bar, but it would them who'd come to him.

 _Benjamin Walsler,_ Hansel would say slapping Ben's shoulder, _we've heard of you_ (because Ben would be someone worth hearing about).

 _Yes,_ Gretel would say, _very impressive how you took down that mountain hag._

 _Thank you_ , Ben would say, charming and humble _but I learnt by studying your moves. You two are my inspiration._

 _I'm glad we inspired you,_ Hansel would say, voice sincere _you’ve helped a lot of people._

 _Let us buy you an ale,_ Gretel would say and then, of course, they all become fast friends and Ben spends the rest of his days hunting with them.

In the second fantasy, Ben would rescue them somehow. The details have always been a bit cloudy but what was clear was Hansel and Gretel would be in trouble, pinned down by dark magic, and Ben would step in and save the day. Hansel and Gretel would be so impressed and grateful that they'd invite him to join them on their adventures.

These daydreams got Ben through his days.

(Ben has a third favorite fantasy which is just a variation of the other two where Gretel leans in close and Hansel's hand lingers where it clasps Ben's shoulder. This fantasy gets him through the nights.)

Hansel and Gretel, in real life, are so much better than Ben's fantasies, and so much –more- than stories could ever tell. The stories never told how they had killed individually and total more witches than any other witch hunter out there but on their first day in Augsburg saved Mina from the pyre. They never tell how Gretel's eyes are green in one light yellow-brown in another or Hansel's hair can shine almost gold in certain lights. They certainly couldn’t prepare him for the excitement of actually journeying with them. It’s like his fantasies have come true.

Except…

Except for the part where they think Ben is just amazing and worthwhile to have around. That part?

Not so much.

"What," Hansel asks, "made -you- want to be a witch hunter?"

His emphasis on –you- was probably because Ben was in the middle of pointing out areas of historical significant on a map while adding citations. And the map was from Ben's own collection that he'd brought with him.

The skepticism is hurtful but fair.

Hansel and his sister are tall, strong, with dangerous weapons and dangerous glints in their eyes. Ben is not. He has pen calluses on his fingers and ink stains under his nails. He definitely looks like someone who has spent the majority of their life reading about adventures as opposed to actually having them (Because he has).

On the other hand, it's a little too late to question Ben's motives. Never mind the fact that Hansel pulled him along on a suicide mission to destroy an evil coven, they are days out of Augsburg heading towards a new hunt. As far as Ben's concerned, he is a witch hunter.

He's already feeling bolder than he's ever been in his life; he has a gun that Hansel gave him strapped to his hip and a knife Gretel insisted he stuff in his boot. He's in a tavern witch hunting with his heroes! It's everything he's ever dreamed about.

There are worse things about Ben that Hansel could have pointed out. He could have asked, what made it so easy for Ben to leave the town you were born in? Or why did Ben leave that town without telling a soul goodbye? Or worse, how deep did Ben's fanaticism for the siblings go that he happily ran off with them after knowing them for one day?

"You made me want to be a witch hunter. Both of you." If Ben sounds earnest and in love, well, he is. "There was a-a woodcutting of you two. In the paper-"

Hansel groans at him. His disdain of Ben's collection was slightly disheartening since it had been so important to him in his formative years (and also, currently).

"Was it the _Witch Defeated by Orphans_ one?" Gretel asks, plunking down three tankards of beer. "Where Hansel has the sad puppy eyes?"

"You have fucking puppy eyes," Hansel mutters into his beer.

Ben does have a copy of that article that he's reread multiple times, and they both have sad puppy eyes. They’d been amazing then too, kidnapped orphans that managed to fight back and save themselves.

But the first wood cutting he’d seen of them came with the headline _Heroes Hansel and Gretel_ and they’d been adults in the picture, gorgeous and scarred. There was something almost mythological about them, like Artemis and Apollo and that was what drew him in.

And even though he always says too much, and talks too much, he doesn’t know how to explain how much they meant to him, people who helped the helpless. How they helped him be less lonely, helped him to want to be a better person. Worthy. Great.

They're both looking at him now so he says, "I liked how you helped people, and are smart and strong and aren't afraid of anything," which while gushing doesn't begin to encompass his feelings for them.

They make the same vaguely pained expressions Hansel got when Ben had called himself their apprentice (it was an apt word) or Gretel made when he'd spent too long ruminating on their relation to magic (it was, in his defence, an interesting topic.)

It’s a face that seems to say they're starting to regret asking him along. Like it was a mistake. It wasn't. He's fast, smart and enthusiastic. He'll prove himself. Has to.

He stubbornly points out a fact on the map because maps are exciting dammit.

+++

The next night is the first night Ben's ever spent in the wilderness and the whole thing is slightly bewildering. The siblings concur on where and when to stop with very few words, and then start to set up camp in a synchronised flurry. Suddenly there's firewood, then a fire, then a pot of water set to boil all without any instructions being given.

Ben's not sure how he ended up feeling like a third wheel when Edward's not even human, but the troll seems to be doing fine for himself. Maybe trolls are just incapable of feeling self-conscious and as such when he lays out Gretel's bedroll with clumsy hands he manages to be both endearing and useful.

Ben looks over at Hansel and Gretel wondering if asking if there is something he should do would be pointing out his inadequacies. The siblings have their heads close together hot in debate so Ben slides nearer.

They'd had what Ben thinks may have been a real disagreement back in Augsburg when he gathered himself up and asked them if he could go with them. Hansel and Gretel had argued over their decision with their eyes, with Gretel's tight head shakes and Hansel's aloof shrugs. Finally, Gretel had said "it's your funeral" and stalked away. Hansel had clapped him on the back and added, "we aren't paying for your funeral by the way."

This isn't quite a real argument like that. This involves more cursing and elbows to ribs. Once Ben's close enough, he realizes they’re arguing about who was making dinner. It ends when Gretel notices Ben.

"Oh, Ben can cook," Gretel says, firmly.

"Ben can cook?" Hensel repeated incredulously.

"Um…sure! Ben ca-I can cook."

Ben can't cook.

He tries to make stew from the stores of turnip and salt pork. It's not stew. There must be more to stew then vegetables, meat, and water. It is a watery turnip soup but even as soup, it's not very good. Edward doesn't even take a bowl; he just looks at it then headed into the forest intoning "hunting." It's a hurtful, if fair, response.

Hansel and Gretel do eat it, all of it and Ben wants nothing more then to pull it out of their hands to avoid the shame of watching them eat it. He wishes he had a shovel so he could just bury himself alive. Why hadn't he brought a book on cooking? Why had he never studied that instead of magic and hunting?

“That was…interesting,” Gretel says diplomatically.

Ben can read the grimace on her face. “It was terrible,” he corrects mournfully.

“It was shit,” Hansel corrects, "Just as shit as anything we can make. Back to flipping coins, I guess."

"You can't flip a coin for three people."

"I'll think of something," He promised, "you're not getting out of making dinner. If we have to suffer, so do you."

+++

Hansel is clever (if the weapons and other gadgets aren't enough of a clue to that) and his solution is a strange three sided die that he cast in a soft metal. Scratched into its sides are the letters G, H, and B.

Ben can’t stop the butterflies that flutter in his stomach when he looks at the small item that bare his initial and theirs.

He tries to rein his feelings in with logic so not to end up in an Icarus situation. It wasn't Hansel, Gretel, and Ben. It was Hansel & Gretel and, also, Ben. The die could easily be melted down again.

The most important thing about the die was that really, whichever way the it falls there is no winner at dinner. All three of them are that terrible.

+++

When they sleep at night Gretel takes off all her clothing until she's only dressed in a shirt. She does this whole process, at the campsite, in the light of the fire, and in front of everyone. Now, she's never told Ben to not look, or threaten him, but he keeps his eyes trained on the ground anyways because he is a gentleman. He can't help straining his ears over the fire crackling, Hansel tinkering and Edward chewing on a bone to hear the rustle of laces being picked open and fabric falling.

While she undresses he can't stop thinking about her breasts and the time his fingers tips had brushed against them. He gets uncomfortably hard in his trousers. Once she's done the torture continues because she sits at the fire basically naked, since the shirt barely reaches just above her knees. Her long legs are bare, her feet naked and her breasts just hanging loose. She also does what seems like perfectly normal woman things like unbraiding her hair and combing it.

She looks lovely, and sweet in the firelight, the soft sound of the comb whisking through her hair.

Then the next day, when a hare leaps across their path she puts an arrow through its eye.

She is amazing.

+++

On the night the die first lands on G, Hansel hustles Ben to the edge of the clearing for shooting practice. This practice consists of Hansel hanging a small scrap of leather from a tree and standing too close behind Ben. Ben can feel Hansel's breath on his neck and it makes him, understandingly, nervous.

Ben hasn't, he feels, done great at proving himself so far since he can't cook and he's never killed a witch. He can't fuck up shooting. If he's a shit shot Hansel and Gretel will probably just leave him in the woods. (Well, no, Hansel and Gretel probably make a point of not abandoning people in the woods. But send him away? Yes.)

It's all moot since Ben is not terrible at shooting even with Hansel –literally- breathing down his neck.

"Not bad," Hansel says his lips practically touching Ben's ear, "but you need a stronger stance." He slides his knee between Ben's legs knocking them further apart.

Heat flares up in his belly and Ben has to tighten his grip on the gun so it doesn't slip from his sweaty palms.

"Try again," and Ben manages to aim and fire getting closer to the centre even with his heart pounding.

"Keep your elbow out," and Hansel adjusts him again standing obscenely close, hand on Ben's arm.

"Do you want to try again?" and Ben actually wants to stay in Hansel's arms but since that's not an option he nods.

Guns are almost as good.

+++

Ben does learn a lot over the next few weeks. Gretel shows him how to make a proper fist with his thumb safely on the outside (she touches his hands to do so which is distracting). Hansel teaches him to make crossbow bolts one night (there is more distracting touching). Even Edward had smacked Ben's hand when he tried to gather bad berries and showed him where to find edible mushrooms instead (Edward's touch is, luckily, not distracting).

And Ben knows, he's getting stronger.

But it's hard.

If it rains, they walk. If there's a river, they ford it. If there's no dry wood, they don't have a fire. If there's no food, they don't eat.

Ben's body isn't used to the punishing pace that Hansel, Gretel and Edward can keep and each night he goes to sleep muscles bruised and aching. Even worse, he's developed some type of blood filled blister on his foot that gets worse each day. The day before they begin their ascent he looks at the looming mountain and he wants to cry. He's never going to make it to his first real enough to count witch hunt because he's going to die on its peaks instead.

The only nice thing about coming up into the root of the mountains is that Edward has some kind of innate ability to find caves. This one is the nicest by far carved out of the mountain like a giant took a spoon to it. Hansel's odd shaped die lands on B so Ben rustles through the food stores trying to plan a meal and not dwell on his imminent death. His body, especially his blistered foot, throbs.

Ben misses Hansel and Gretel's conversation because it's a silent one and only realises they had one when Gretel says, matter of fact, "We'll stay here a few days to make sure we're in good strength to climb the mountain."

That's the exact opposite of what they had planned to do and it's clear that Ben is the reason they are stopping. But neither Hansel nor Gretel says anything either to chastise or console him and the humiliation swishes in him.

"I'm fine to climb the mountain."

Hansel snorts and Gretel just gives Ben a look.

"Oh, so you aren't favouring a leg?"

"No," he lies, "Like I said, I'm fine."

They aren't convinced. "Let me look at your foot," She says.

His foot, to even the densest observer, is not fine, but the only way to avoid her looking would be to outright deny her request and Ben can't do that anymore then Edward can.

Though he'd been concerned, he is not actually bleeding, but the blister isn't better. It is, in fact, larger and darker than the last time he'd gotten the guts to look.

"You're not going to make it up the mountain if this doesn't heal," Gretel says.

"Yeah, or you'll get the rot and I'll have to cut your leg off," Hansel adds.

Ben's not sure which is worse: The idea of his foot rotting off or that the most beautiful woman in the world is holding said gross foot. He tries to wiggle out of her grasp, but Gretel is not a woman that can be defeated by weak squirming.

"Hold still," she takes out a knife and doesn't bat an eye at draining the blister then wrapping it up.

Hansel pulls out food for dinner. The supper is wrinkled apples and wedges of cheese. It's one of the better dinner's any of the three of them have managed.

Ben doesn't eat and instead stares down at his apple. This isn't how it's supposed to go. In all his daydreams he’d at least been competent. What kind of asset would he be if he couldn’t even make it to the witch? There’s a prickling behind his eyelids that means he might cry and he sniffs trying to stop it. Gretel sighs and moves closer to Ben while Hansel pretends he can't hear them talk about emotions.

"Stopping a few days is not going to throw off the schedule too much." She's brusque and matter of fact, "You need a break before we climb the mountain. Do you want Hansel to have to cut your foot off?"

"No."

"Good. He doesn't want to cut it off. It's stupid to not tell us you're hurt just to prove yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Be smart."

He nods and blinks a few times. He doesn't feel happy exactly but less like he's going to cry in front of his heroes so it helps.

"Besides, now that we're stuck here I have something you can help me with."

He's so sure that it's going to be a patronising request, even though, Gretel doesn't coddle, that he's honestly shocked when she asks:

"I thought, perhaps, you'd look at the grimoire with me." Out of the corner of his eye, Ben can see Hansel stiffen at that then even more pointedly ignore them.

Ben had known she had the book because he’d seen her take it. Gretel has shut him down every time he's brought it up; he assumed it was a secret. He'd thought she'd lie about it, but here she is talking about it in front of her brother. The promise of just looking at a book like the grimoire is enough for him to forget his earlier feelings of uselessness.

"I would definitely love to look at it!” That sounds too weirdly lubricious that even Hansel, who is pretending he’s not there, makes a face. Ben coughs and tries again, “I would be happy look at the grimoire with you."

Gretel puts his arm over her shoulder so he can avoid his bad foot and tucks the grimoire under her arm likes it's a sack of potatoes. Hansel doesn't look up from his gun.

They walk out of earshot of the cave and open the book on a large rock. The script is thin looping in brown reds; there are diagrams, pentagrams, and notations filling the margins in different hands. Just looking at a book like this would have him burnt at the stake.

It's breathtaking.

"How do you think this book ended up in Augsburg? Do you think Abramelin was there? And why?"

Gretel doesn't answer, but that doesn't stop him from asking questions.

"Are you looking for another spell to counter black magic? Because this would be the place to look," he gently turns the delicate pages, "Hey do you think that the magic protecting you and Hansel is the result of a spell or the result of blood lines? Like how when, you have a chicken with wry tail and you need a chicken without a wry tail to breed it with? So it’s a trait that passed down to you as opposed to something specifically done to you."

"Did you just compare my family to farm animals?" She sounds amused rather than angry.

"No, not like that! I was using chickens as an example about things that pass on from parents to children. There's something in the chicken that makes the baby chicks that way. It's in the bloodline. Is magic like that, do you think? In your blood and you're a witch whether you do magic or not?"

He finally stops babbling when he says that because calling someone a chicken is one thing but flat out calling the world's greatest witch hunter a witch is another thing entirely.

She doesn’t look angry, but her lips press together giving her a far away look. She doesn’t answer any of his questions and says instead:

"Hansel said that Mina found this at our old house. I think it was my mother's."

"That's an uh…reasonable extrapolation." He can feel the questions vibrating inside him. How was Augsburg the site of not one but two white witches? None of the mainstream stories of witch hunters ever talked about good magic; had Hansel and Gretel ever come across it before? Did they remember anything about their mother? Why did black magic seem so much more prevalent than white?

He tamps down the worst of the questions, tries to quite his whirling mind, and settles on asking, "Are you looking for a spell against dark arts like we used against the Grand Witch?"

"No. I can fight monsters fine with a crossbow. I don't… I don't need magic for that. I thought… Maybe I could find a way to help his sugar sickness. Do you think you can help me with that?"

He can feel a glimmer of his childhood fantasy fluttering in his chest at the idea that he could save Hansel from anything. That he, Benjamin Walsler, could help Gretel.

"Of course!"

+++

It was easier said than done. Eventually, they find instructions, in a mixture of Latin and German, which promises health to sickness and injury.

The ingredients are almost whimsical in their common everydayness; the books Ben had read of witches spells had always talked of newt eyes, baby bones, entrails, and other nasty things. White magic is certainly less gruesome.

Since Ben can’t go ingredient collecting because of his foot Edward is an important help since Gretel can’t recognise flowers.

"This isn't an aster?" Edward has a sad hopeless look on his face and Ben's pretty sure that Gretel is holding Fools Parsley.

Hansel doesn't ask about any of it until the night Gretel and Ben, on a mostly healed foot, sneak out of the cave. Well, Ben sneaks; Gretel just walks by Hansel pretending she doesn’t see him.

“Where are you two going?” Hansel asks, gun in his hand like he thinks he should go too.

"I'm swimming naked in the moonlight. To purify myself.” Gretel tells him, then just stares at him, daring Hansel to say something.

“Right, that sound like something he just made up so he could see your breasts”

“I didn’t!” Ben protests, going red.

"Well, I’d take Edward but he can't read, dumbass. But if you want to sit on your ass in the dark and the cold to read the grimoire to me I'm sure Ben doesn't care."

Ben does care. He cares so much.

Hansel, luckily, just gestures them away, making a face.

When they reach the pool, Gretel gets straight to work undressing; Ben turns away because, what if Gretel does think he made this up to see her naked?

"This water is cold," she hisses.

He thinks about his reaction to the cold and bites his lip trying to not think about her nipples.

"Last time I was in water like this I was fighting for my life."

"Yes! The swamp witch of Rügen!" Ben blossoms at this more familiar territory, "She could breathe under water and you had to use a harpoon to get her out!"

"You read about that too, "Gretel's laugh echoes over the water, "Why do you asks so many questions when you already know the answers?"

"Because you can't know everything from reading! Hexe Jäger Quarterly said you killed the Black Forest Hag by impaling, but Hansel told me that wouldn't work because an impaled witch would just be an angry witch on a stick." Ben's getting excited, hands talking along with him and he turns to look at her then remembers: she's naked and they are doing a purification ceremony. He presses his face towards the musty herb-scented pages of the book instead.

"And the pamphlets can't even decide on your ages or which of you is older." Behind him is quiet save for the gentle lap of water "So…can you tell me which of you is older?"

"Sorry, I can't answer questions right now. I'm purifying myself." It's the same voice she uses when she teases her brother and Ben feel extremely pleased she's using it with him.

He can't help but hoard all the moments he's treated like he belongs with them like a dragon with gold. It's just sometimes it seems that he fits so easily with them, even though it's just another lie he's telling himself.

He turns his attention back to the book away from Gretel. She didn't ask him to come for his company; he has a job to do.

“Ok, so hold the potion in your hand and repeat after me,” The words of the spell are pretty: curling and floral. When Gretel says the words back it’s wooden like they're being dragged out of her at knife point.

"I think you have to say the words like you mean them. Or at least, like you think this will work."

She doesn’t reply and maybe, he realises, despite the healing spell being her idea, she –doesn’t- want it to work. He’d been so caught up in helping and research that it never really occurred to him that she might not like the idea of magic. Magic is pretty much the opposite of what she and her brother do.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I don't do anything I don't want to do."

“Well…do you want to?”

"I should have talked to Hansel about this…maybe he doesn't even want to be cured with magic,” Gretel sounds soft, almost vulnerable, “When witches do magic, they start to rot from the evil. Magic is putrid and I have never seen it do anything good. Until Augsburg …”

His heart goes out to her, and he wants to hold her to say the right thing so she doesn’t sound so broken. Instead, he babbles.

“It was an Egyptian mystic who taught Abraham of Worms the secrets of faith and protection that he’d divined from the Angels; that’s this book here. There was um... _A Treatises on Majiks_ which mentioned druids in England who helped keep the blight from wheat crops, and the Friar Joshua who suggested some biblical miracles were magic users. Well,…he was burned as a heretic but I think you see my point.”

“Is the point that you read a lot?” She’s back to her dry amusement which is comforting.

“Maybe. I thought you’d like to hear about magic that doesn’t do terrible things. It’s been written about. It exists. I mean, look at whatever protective magic your mother put on you and Hansel.”

“I thought you said that was blood lines. Like in a chicken.”

Gretel laughs then takes a deep breath. "Well fuck it. I didn't pick all those flowers for nothing. Tell me the words again."

He does and when she repeats them back there's a power in her voice a feeling of lighting in the air. The clearing is suddenly lit with a pale green light.

"Well…that did something."

He can't not look behind him. The potion is pulsating like a star in her hands throwing off a beautiful soft light. It's entrancing and they both stare at it. He realizes he's turned around and then he's staring down directly at her bathed in the glow in water that only reaches the bottom of her hip bones.

"Sorry!" he jerks away.

"Are you going to turn back around?"

"I-I"

"You can if you'd like."

She must be joking, but it's not her teasing voice; it's something new and low. He so wants to turn around so he does.

It's everything he's dreamed.

Her hair streaming down her back in dark ripples and the moonlight makes her skin glow. She's leaner than he'd imagined, hard muscles in her arms and stomach. Her breasts, though, oh her breast were even better than he'd dreamed.

He's staring dumb and drooling at her like a country bumpkin. He should say something, recite poetry like 'Oh Gretel with hair like a raven's wing, eyes like the stars and really nice breasts.'

"Uh, um," He stutters instead.

She kisses him and it's not really his first kiss, but it's first enough to count. He squeaks in surprise then does everything he can to make up for it. He's surely not a good kisser, but Gretel is amazing so he follows her lead.

With a slosh of water, she pulls herself completely out of the water. He can see all of her body, the swell of her buttocks the even softer swells of her breast and the dark vee between her legs covered in dark curls.

In his pants, he's hard, and when she settles herself on top of him, lip to lip and hip to hip, he bucks closer to her. Her skin is cool from the water but her mouth is hot and she does a thing with her tongue he's never even dreamt of that makes him moan.

She slides her hand into his pants, and he twitches and lets out a whimper. Her grip is firm, her skin hot and damp. She has calluses on her trigger finger that scrape against his sensitive skin once twice before he explodes shamefully over her hand.

"Sorry," he gasps when he can talk again. You're supposed to be inside a woman before you do that, he knows that at least. She kisses him again, sweet and beautiful and he'd like nothing else but to be able to stay with her forever.

"It's fine. But…if you don't mind?" she pulls his hand towards the curls between her legs and it is warm and wet and soft and he does not mind one bit.

+++

The next day he's not entirely convinced any of that happened and he didn't have just a very explicit dream. Gretel doesn't act different not like a woman who's bedded a man acts (well he doesn't know how a woman acts after bedding a man but she's not shy or coy or seductive). She's just Gretel and it's disconcerting enough that he runs off to collect firewood.

Maybe Ben had been so bad, she was pretending it didn't happen.

He comes back to camp with a pathetic pile of wood and nearly dies again to see her talking with Hansel. Was she telling him!? Would Hansel try to kill him for touching his sister?! But Ben hears "plan of attack", "you need to make your move", "unload your rifle" and, clearly, they are talking about witches.

"Are you talking hunting strategy!?" he hurries over, awkwardness about what happened or not, he wants to hear about witch hunting.

"Yes," Gretel says, as Hansel says "no"

"Are you talking about the time you trapped the Anderson Sisters in a forge and lit it on fire?!"

"Yes," Gretel says, as Hansel says "No. Why would we be talking about that?"

Gretel laughs, "Well boys, have fun. I've got some things I need to take care of."

Ben can’t help but feel a bit relieved. It's hard to look at her and not keep remembering he's seen her naked.

Hansel seems distracted.

"So…did you want to talk about the Anderson Sisters?" Ben tries hopefully.

"No." Ben follows after Hansel into the woods.

"Well, do you want to practice shooting? Or...?"

"Or?" Hansel repeats giving Ben a queer appraising look that make something deep inside him perk up.

Hansel steps closer, as close as he does when Ben is doing target practice, and Ben thinks maybe he's taken _or_ to mean something else even better than talking.

"We could do ‘or’."

Ben only has one second to think he was completely wrong about what was going on before Hansel kisses him. He's all hard muscles and he has big hands that frame Ben's face. He kisses like his sister, wild and wet with a tongue sliding shockingly between Ben's lips.

It's dizzying and when they finally break apart Ben ends up clinging to Hansel.

"Are you ok?"

"Yup," Ben's answer is squeaky. Trying to be bold and proactive he puts a hand on Hansel's chest (so muscular) and rubs his lips against Hansel's jaw (so strong).

He yelps when Hansel starts to undo his pants.

"Sorry. I thought that be ok. I know you're not a virgin," That's a kind thing to assume but mostly untrue. The only sexual thing that Ben had ever done that wasn't self-abuse had been Gretel's hand in his pants the last evening.

"Oh, right. No I'm definitely not a virgin. You can keep doing that." Hansel looks sceptical, but Ben wiggles closer

It all quickly leads to Ben leaning pantless against a tree while Hansel slides his prick between Ben's thighs. It's lovely both hard and soft. Hansel, wraps one of his big hands around Ben's member and he tries to last longer than the first time but once Ben realizes Hansel has a callus in the same places at his sister it's all over.

 +++

After, when they get back to the cave, Hansel slumps down beside Gretel looking satisfied and Ben, seeing both of them together, flees to get even more firewood.

He may have fucked up.

On one hand, Ben had once read a book called ‘ _Spells Most Vile'_ which warned about the dangers of virgin blood and witches uses for it (The book only talked about maiden's blood, but Ben didn't see why a virgin man blood wouldn't work as well). So now he's probably safe from that. So that’s good.

On that same hand, sex. That was good too. Sex with Hansel and Gretel, the two people Ben has always fantasised sex with? God damn amazing!

On the other hand, he'd read a poem once about a man who'd courted two sisters at the same time and that had led to murder, then suicide and then the cur being hung. So…

Ben is a bastard, and when Hansel and Gretel talk about what they’ve done, it is going to be bad times.

+++

But, as it turns out, they don't talk about it. At all. And no one acts weird except for Ben who ends up babbling more than usual.

In the evening, after an awful meal, Gretel tosses one of the bottles of potion to Hansel.

"Drink this."

Obviously, Hansel must know that it's whatever magical potion Ben and Gretel had been working on. So it would be fair if he was hesitant. Instead, Hansel pops in open and tips it into his mouth.

"Fuck. It tastes like rat piss."

"It's probably all the rat piss I put in it."

Hansel looks bemused, not overly concerned because he truly believes Gretel would never do anything to harm him.

"Are you going to tell me what that was?"

"Just wait."

They sit in awkward silence that after a quarter of an hour is broken by the ticking sound of Hansel’s alarm. He reaches over to his bag for his needle, completely routine, but Gretel stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Wait."

He looks at her face slowly morphing from perplexed to shock.

The device on Hansel's arm continues to trill and he slowly stands up muscles flexing in his arms as he makes and unmakes fists. Testing his body. Gretel watches him (and Ben watches both of them) for a minute before she stands up as well, reaching over to turn off his alarm.

Ben's not sure which is more beautiful: the tiny delighted smile curling up on Gretel's face or the naked wonderment on Hansel's. He folds her into his arms like a precious thing.

"Thanks, sis."

It's hard to look at Hansel and Gretel and not feel like an intruder.

+++

After almost a week of waiting for his foot to heal it’s a relief to tackle the mountain. It’s still hard going, and Ben ends up trailing behind everyone even Edward who’s basically carrying everything on his back. Edward hovers behind Gretel looking all the world like he'd carry her up the mountain if only she let him. Ben wouldn’t mind being carried up the mountain but Edward doesn’t ask.

It goes well if not a bit sweaty. Then, at midday Hansel swoons and lands in the dirt, his face turns waxy and pale. It's not until he injects his usual elixir does the colour come back to his cheeks.

Gretel's face looks like someone kicked her in the chest. Ben, torn between wanted to comfort and fuss over both of them does neither. He finally ducks behind Edward when Gretel's face switches from hurt to furious.

"It didn't work."

"It sorta worked."

"No, it didn't."

"I don't feel like I'm dying."

"That's not good enough."

They stop early and Edward finds them a sheltered area in the rocks. Gretel is still furious, lips clenched until they are white. She digs the grimoire out of a bag and holds it like it personally betrayed her.

"Do you want me to come?" Ben asks hesitantly.

"I don't need your help." She snaps, stomping away from the camp. Edward follows her and Ben isn't sure if he should go to.

"Let her go." Hansel advises, patting Ben once on the arm.

"Is she…um angry at me?"

"No." Hansel looked down the trail where Gretel and Edward disappeared and doesn't say any more. Ben's not convinced. "Let's go practice your knife work."

Practice your knife work does not mean that at all. Instead, Hansel kisses him and unbuttons Ben's trousers.

"She's angry at herself. She likes to be in control of situations and she's protective of me. You get that?"

Ben could only nod frantically and hiss "yes, yes" because Hansel was explaining this while working two fingers into him.

He doesn't think that what Hansel's doing should feel so good. Maybe a side effect of having a white witch as a mother is magically making bodies feel good even while doing strange things. Ben tries to rally his brains and point this observation out but ends out gasping instead, "You're a witch."

Instead of getting angry Hansel chuckles and retaliates by changing the angle of his wrist. Suddenly Ben loses all ability to speak and worry.

+++

Hansel is, of course, right about Gretel. While Edward and Hansel scout the best path over a rough patch, she stays back with Ben.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“That’s ok!” Ben enthuses, relieved that she doesn’t hate him.

“Just because you’re…infatuated,” she says irritated, “doesn’t mean you should just let me hurt you.”

“I’m not!” he protests because it’s not infatuation; it’s love. Gretel must think he’s protesting that the thing because she says:

“I know I upset you last night.”

“It’s fine,” Ben says again because it really is. “Hansel said-“ he cuts himself short.

“What did Hansel say?”

“That…you’re mostly angry with yourself?”

“Yeah. I guess that’s right. I will cure him. I promise I will,” she holds her hand out for him to take, “and if you’re still willing, I’ll welcome your help.”

“Of course,” he grabs her hand and clasps it with both of his. He's not sure if it's the thin air of the mountain or just Gretel that makes him breathless.

"But there isn't anything we can do until we're off this mountain.” Her lips quirk almost to a smile, “So…would you like to take my clothes off?"

If she’s just offering because she’s guilty then Ben should really say no. But she still looks upset so he leans forward and kisses the furrow between her brow. She laughs at him, almost fondly, and he can’t stop because he’s enchanted.

She ends up on top of him her hips rocking up and down like she was riding a horse except there was no horse. She’s soft and wet and lovely.

+++

When all four of them are together no one mentions the things they do separately. Since no one is mentioning it, it is clearly a secret.

They make their way through the mountains, Ben practices fighting and weapons work and occasionally Hansel or Gretel pull him aside for some amorous congress.

And it's almost everything he's dreamed of. And clearly he is like that cur in the poem because he can't imagine choosing between them. He doesn't just want Gretel or just Hansel; he wants to be with Hansel and Gretel.

He’s always wanted Hansel and Gretel. Instead, it’s him with Gretel and him with Hansel.

It's, almost, enough.

+++

It's a misty and miserable night, that they spend on the highest peak. Edward's cave finding skills have diminished and what they end up camped beside is basically a vertical slit in a wall face. Gretel, in only a shirt despite the temperature, slides in with her bed roll. Edward sits against the wall to block the wind.

It looks cozy.

As for Ben and Hansel, there's no wood for a fire and the wind whips at the two of them. Shivers rock through Ben as he clutches his bedroll to himself. He'll never sleep.

"This is bullshit." Hansel drags Ben over to the crack in the rock, "Sorry about your delicate sensibilities kid, but I'm freezing my nuts off here."

Ben doesn't have any time to ask what Hansel means by ‘delicate sensibilities' before Hansel shoves past Edward and crams Ben and himself in with Gretel.

It's cramped but warm and it soon smells like leather and gun power. He falls asleep smelling Hansel and Gretel.

Ben wakes up in the night, toasty, his face smushed into Gretel's perfect bosom, Hansel's arm tucked around them both. It's perfect like every fantasy he's ever had.

This is what he wants.

++

The next morning, he wakes up alone with a troll nudging him none to gently.

"Get up sleepy head," Gretel calls already dressed and strapping weapons to herself.

"If we manage to get going," Hansel adds with an unsubtle glance at Ben, "we can be in the village before this evening."

Ben knocks at Edward’s hands ineffectively, "I'm up."

He doesn't really want to stay in a chilly crack by himself anyway. What he really wants is to stay enfolded in Hansel and Gretel's arms but that is a fantasy, nothing more

The descent is much quicker than the climb had been and they make their way into the valley where the troubled village is tucked between the mountain and a dense forest.

They leave Edward outside of the village and just walk boldly in. No one stops them. When Hansel announces themselves in the town square the three of them are met with the tired pinched faces of a town beset by witches. There is a glimmer of hope stirring in some people’s faces probably because the siblings look so fierce and heroic with their gun and crossbow slung over their respective shoulders.

Their town doesn’t have a sheriff, but the mayor has a group of personal guards that eye Hansel and Gretel with dislike. Ben glares at them since Hansel and Gretel don’t even care to notice, though, they don’t holster their weapons even as they are let into the mayor’s opulent parlour.

The mayor is an equally opulent dressed man who quickly falls into dramatics once they are announced.

“The evil in the forest has taken my precious jewel!” he wails. This turns out to be his missing daughter, Sigrun. He had a stack of leaflets with her likeness drawn on it the word MISSING! stamped on top. Ben take one to be polite; Hansel and Gretel look menacing and unimpressed.

“And you think a witch is responsible for your missing citizens?” Gretel asks.

“Witches! Three demon whores! They lured my baby girl away! But I set out a plea of help and some heroes arrive on our doorstep!”

“You mean, you sent out a bounty.” Gretel corrects, “and bounty hunters arrive.”

The man face changes from anguished to waspish in a second, “She is my only daughter.”

“Which explains the bounty,” Hansel says, “and the other people that were taken?”

“The wood is a forbidden place,” the mayor protested, “anything can happen in the woods. Sigrun was inside the town wall. “

“Did you send anyone after her?”

“The town folk rallied together, in my time of need,” this is said pointedly, “some did not return.”

“You sent in untrained peasants.” Gretel is unimpressed, “Good idea.”

“I couldn’t send my guard out. Who would defend me?”

The mayor falls back into hysterics and has very little in the way of useful information. The door clangs shut behind them.

“He’s not going to want to pay up,” Gretel says with a knowing shake of her head, “even if we do find his daughter.”

“No.” Hansel agrees.

“But, we’re still going to going after the witches?” Ben asks.

“Sure.” Gretel shrugs, “There’s a coven of witches in the woods; we’ll go. I just hate shits like that. If he’d had put a bounty out before his daughter went missing maybe fewer people would be missing.”

“Plus, we like getting paid,” Hansel adds.

They talk with the people of the town to get more than the Mayor’s stingy information. There’s an amount of stories of stillbirths and accidental deaths that may be witches or just bad luck but also a string of livestock mutilations and men disappearing into the western woods (colloquially known as the Black Woods). The men of the search party have the most information, and one sketches out the likely location they could find the witches.

The most distressing thing is a woman who latches on to Ben’s arm sobbing about her husband Lothar, a shepherd, who never returned from the search.

“Please, bring him back home!”

“I promise I will-“ Ben starts, stricken.

“If he’s still alive,” Hansel interjects tugging Ben away, “we’ll do what we can.”

“Never promise you’ll bring anyone back.” He confines once they’re out of earshot. “You can’t promise that.”

“Maybe they’re still alive.” Ben still has the leaflet with the mayor’s daughter on it and he worries it between his hands, “The children taken from Augsburg were still alive.”

“That was a special case,” Gretel says, “Witches kill people.”

“The witch that took you kept you alive.” Ben points out.

“Yeah to fatten us up and eat us.”

“Cannibalism is probably a best case scenario,” Gretel says it what she must think is a reassuring tone.

It’s not very reassuring.

+++

Ben can’t sleep. He checks his rifle, loads it, unloads it, counts his bullets, and loads it again, leg bouncing.

“Go to fucking sleep.” Hansel mutters. Edward growls in agreement.

“Sorry.” Ben puts down the gun but can’t stop his jittery legs.

“You’ll do fine.” Gretel is muffled by her blankets, but she reaches out and pats his knee.

“Do you have advice for tomorrow?”

“Try not to get killed.” Hansel suggests, “And shut up.”

Hansel tells him to shut up three more times the next day as the four of them make their way into the Black Woods. Ben is too excited to shut up. Witch hunting! With Hansel and Gretel!

He only quiets down when the shadows deepen, and the air gets stale. They climb a hilltop and look down at the clearing below them.

“Huh,”

In the clearing sits a large, squat, orange, pumpkin shaped house. Or maybe a house shaped pumpkin? It’s almost sweet, like a fairy tale. It’s probably supposed to trick people that there aren’t horrible monsters living inside but the air is heavy with a fetid smell of rot and there’s definitely a pile of, probably, human bones near the front door.

“Pumpkins.” Hansel mutters, “Is that what children like these days?”

He pulls out a strange set of spectacles that he peers at the house with then passes them around. When Ben looks through them on his turn he sees the house like he’s standing a yard away not fifty. Hansel and Gretel have the best gear!

“Do you see the movement in the window?” Hansel asks.

“Uh, yeah. Two witches?” Hansel shakes his head.

“All three are inside. Looks like they’re all home.”

“Ok,” Gretel says, crisp and authoritative, “Edward and I will go in the front. Hansel around back and Ben, keep an eye out for runners.”

“But,” Ben protests voice ending with an unfortunate whine, “I want to come fight with you guys.”

“You are with us,” Gretel says, “So, shoot anything that tries to fly away.”

“Or slithers,” Hansel adds, always helpful.

Ben brows furrow at being left behind, but he crouches obediently and trains the looking glasses on the house. With any luck he’ll get to shoot something. He’s so intent on the house and waiting for the attack he doesn’t hear rustling near him. It’s not until something only vaguely shaped like a woman steps out of the shadows does he turn around. Ben drops the glasses, heart in his throat.

“Are you lost in the woods sweetie?” Her voice is soft and crooning, but black magic had given her a face full of weeping ulcers so she’s pretty repulsive, “I can help you.”

She seems unconcerned by his rifle that he points at her in slightly trembling hands. He’s not sure if he should shoot right away or leave the three below the element of surprise.

He looks closer at the witch with her frizzy blond hair and bloodshot blue eyes

“Sigrun?” It’s the mole on her chin, unblemished by the lesions, that he’d seen in the leaflet her father handed him.

The witch smirks, “Oh, did my father send you too? We can have lots of fun with you. In fact-“

Ben shoots her. Both Hansel and Gretel had said: _don’t let those bitches talk._

The bullet doesn’t kill her and she fires her wand at him with a shriek and a blast of light. His legs burn as if dipped in fire and he howls. He manages to not drop the gun and shoots again, missing her completely. Over the pain and struggle to remain upright, he can hear gunshots and Edward’s bellow in the clearing below.

“Who the hell are you?” she hisses rushing up to him. He’d like to have said ‘your worst nightmare’ or ‘a shaft of light in the darkest night’, but he doesn’t have time to answer before she stabs him in the stomach.

It’s not the pain that’s the most upsetting (he doesn’t notice the pain right away). It’s the wet meaty sound and the way his body is caught on her wand like a fish on a hook. She grins, gums black, and tugs sideways.

It’s so disappointing.

And he can’t –be- a disappointment.

Ben forces his tingling fingers to not drop the gun but rise it up. He gets the barrel of the gun under her chin and he blows her head off. His first kill.

He collapses on the ground clutching the seeping wound in his belly. It really sucks that he’s going to die on his first hunt.

The gunfire stops and moments later he hears crashing coming towards him.

“Shit!” Gretel curses. “Let me see,” she says trying to pull his hands away.

“Nononon,” he disagrees because he’s sure something that should stay inside will come out if he does.

“It’s ok, hold on,” she tells him before moving out of his line of sight, “Edward, I need Hansel’s bag.”

He cries out, not from pain but because he can’t see her anymore. Hansel’s there suddenly kneeling by his head.

“Hey, it’s ok. We’ve got you. We’ve got you.” Hansel kissed the tears from Ben`s eyes then pressed their lips together as Ben sobbed in pain.

Then Gretel’s muttering near his feet hands on his wound and Hansel is forcing disgusting tasting water into his mouth and the world blurs together and goes grey than black.

+++

He dreams of rocking in strong arms, and of Hansel and Gretel looking down on him. The world smells like blood, troll, and burning pumpkin. They’re lovely, hard and scared like Greek heroes and he tells them so slurring out, “You’re so beautiful.”

It’s like someone tipped over a jar of beads and it’s a flood of I love you, you’re perfect let me stay by your sides forever.

It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t, you know, dying.

“Shhh, just sleep,” she says pressing a finger to his lips.

+++

He wakes up, very much alive with a mouth full of cotton, dressed in what is clearly Gretel’s second shirt. He blinks, taking in the campsite: there is a pot of something haphazardly boiling on the fire, Edward seems concerned with brushing orange pieces of pumpkin gourd off his clothing and Hansel and Gretel sitting pressed together, two peas in a pod. He smiles, then they look at him, and his smile dims. Neither looks exactly pleased.

“I thought I told you to not die,” Hansel says.

“Sorry,” he manages, “What happened?”

“You got stabbed,” Gretel’s face is without humour.

“And you killed the mayor’s daughter. So we’re probably not going to get paid. Good job.”

“Oh…” he lies back, “Why am I not dead?”

He tries to remember what happened and he definitely remembers being slit open. “The potion?”

“I guess it did work after all,” Gretel said.

“I told you.” Hansel voice is almost his teasing voice but there is an edge to it. There’s an edge to everything they’ve said and the atmosphere is tense.

Ben remembers the fight and being stabbed. He also remembers them looking down on his and Hansel. Neither mentions the kiss. Maybe it wasn’t as intimate as Gretel holding his intestines. Ben’s pretty certain that at one point while slipping unconscious, he may have declared his undying love for Hansel and Gretel. Of course, if he did say those things it’s not like they’ll mention it. How long he can continue on with neither of them mentioning things?

He can’t think about that so he focuses on himself instead. He tries to figure out a way to look at his belly without flashing the others his bits. It’s proving difficult.

“Careful,” Hansel comes over to Ben, “There’ll be a scar.”

“Good,” Ben says stubbornly, “you both have scars.” He gives up trying to be dignified and just lifts the shirt. The scar is smaller than he’s thought it be, barely the length of his hand. Hansel and Gretel’s collection of scars lean towards chalk white line; this is pink and shiny.

“Yeah, we have scars,” Hansel agrees, too close as usual, and he swipes his thumb across the puckered skin.

“Hansel.” Gretel snaps, and they both look at her. Ben can feel his face go red because he’s hardly wearing any clothing. He tucks the shirt down and between his legs pretending he has some modesty.

“What?” Hansel, asks, clearly knowing what. Gretel frowns then turns and walks out of the campsite. The two men stare after her.

“Right, well” Hansel nods to Ben, “Watch the food. Make sure it doesn’t burn.”

Then he’s gone.

Panic starts hammering inside Ben’s chest. It’s as if everything was just about to fall apart. He gets up, feeling fine in body but hysterical in his soul. He starts to stir the pot of whatever but the anxious feeling presses on his chest so he whirls around to Edward.

“Do you think she’s mad about him kissing me?” Ben asks. Edward doesn’t answer, but he looks concerned maybe because Ben is pacing and gesturing wildly with a spoon.

“Do you think they’re fighting?” which is the worst idea he’s ever heard. Edward huffs at him.

“Do you think they’re going to send me away after this? That’s not fair!” Ben cries, “I killed a witch and I didn’t mean to get stabbed.”

“Go.” Edward gestured irritated.

“What?”

The troll grunts and gestures in the direction Hansel and Gretel went, “Go.”

“I should…yeah ok.” He presses the spoon into Edward’s hands. “Watch the food will you?”

They aren’t too far off and they’re arguing not with their eyes but with words. Ben hears Gretel say, voice tense, “could have been killed” and "safer for him at home” so he eavesdrops shamelessly stomach in knots.

“It’s better he’s with us than out fighting on his own.”

“If I hadn’t made a magic potion Ben would be dead.”

“But he’s not.”

Her face is drawn, “I’m tired of the men I care about getting stabbed in front of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hansel presses his lips to her forehead tenderly, “But your stupid potion worked. You did good.”

Gretel leans into him for a moment before frowning and punching him, hard, in the arm. Just like that, the fight is over.

“What are you doing molesting him in front of everyone?”

“I was not. I was just happy he wasn’t dead.”

“You’re a letch. But you know, if you keep smiling at people they’re going to think you like them.”

“Shut up.”

“Were you going to tenderly caress his wound?”

Hansel smacks her hand away, “I just wanted to make sure his dick was still there. For your sake.”

“Oh, just for me, hmm? Hansel, I know what the two of you get up to.”

The world falls from under Ben’s feet. They both knew. God, he’s an idiot. Of course, they knew because they tell each other everything. They tell each other _everything._ Oh God.

“It’s probably better than anything you can get up to. Someone needs to show you how it’s done.”

“Oh, and you think you can teach me?” She’s steps into Hansel's personal space and suddenly Ben forgets he’s embarrassed, forgets he nearly died, and forgets how to breathe.

They’re kissing.

Watching Hansel and Gretel work together like two parts of one tool: separate things that move together seamlessly, with one purpose. Watching them kiss is a revelation because they are two halves of a whole; there isn’t any room for him between them. Adding Ben would be like adding a third axle to a perfectly balanced cart.

He could never be a part of that.

However, this sense of despair doesn’t reach all of Ben and he’s hard and aching between his legs. They are so perfect like this. Hansel buries his face in Gretel’s neck and she wraps her arms around his shoulders arching into him. When Ben sees Hansel’s hands slide down Gretel’s back to squeeze what he knows is a pert buttock he lets out a moan.

It’s a loud sound that startles the siblings. This is unfortunate because, not only do they stop kissing, startling Hansel and Gretel means that Ben has a gun and a crossbow pointed at him.

“Sorry!” He yelps, “Sorry.”

They lower their weapons and stare. He’s never really seen them at a loss for words, until now. They glance at each other then back at him.

“Hey,” Hansel says finally.

“Hi,” Ben replies.

“Um,” Gretel starts, awkward and undignified. She steps out of Hansel’s arms and coughs.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says again. “I was just…

“Spying.” Hansel supplies. He’s not angry; He’s startled. She’s startled. It’s because, Ben realizes, they were never planning on sharing this with him.

“Sorry.” because it’s all he can really say, “I didn’t mean too…I can see you’re busy and probably want to be alone right now, that’s fine. I’m just…it’s…wow.”

Neither says anything so he continues on in a flood of words.

“That was very…huh, wow. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be in your ways and I get that it’s private, I do, I really do but maybe, maybe you’ll let me stay? So I can watch?”

The two of them stare at him like he’s stopped speaking a language they understand.

“I’ll be quiet,” he adds.

“You’re never quiet,” Hansel scoffs.

“You want to see us…together?” Gretel asks, rolling the words in her mouth like foreign concepts.

“Yes?” and he doesn’t really see why she’s confused. And really, in only a shirt it’s obvious that he’s aroused.

“You want to sit over there and watch us?” her head tilts.

Ben shrugs. Of course, what he really wants is to be over there with them but he’ll take what he can get.

“You can ask for things you want, you know,” Hansel says finally.

“I did!” Ben protests, “I just did.”

Gretel shakes her head, “You’re so strange.”

Then she’s glancing at her bother significantly, a conversation with their eyes. Her eyebrows quirk and Hansel’s lips twitch. Ben feels a flutter in his chest because he knows what those looks mean doesn’t he.

“Come here,” Gretel says crooking her finger at him, “so I can check your wound.” But she means something else, obviously, and he bounces over eager. The three of them stand close and she tugs the shirt off him entirely, to the point as always, leaving him naked.

He’s hard, which is indelicate to say the least, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She does rub her fingertips over the pink scar, like her brother had before she cups his face in her hands and kisses him soundly. Hansel’s chest presses up against Ben’s back and he sighs happily into her mouth. It’s a delicate kiss, exploring him with her lips like they’ve never kissed before.

The kiss ends and Ben hardly has time to take a breath before Hansel is pressing his own kiss on him. It’s not delicate. It’s a wild kiss, a wet kiss with lips bruising teeth and it leaves Ben rutting against Hansel’s thigh helplessly.

“Will you please kiss again?” Ben asks when he can speak again.

“Would you like that?” Hansel asks, amusement rumbling his words.

“Please?”

Hansel laughs at him again but reaches for Gretel. Pleased sounds hum out of her as the kiss goes for tentative to passionate, Hansel’s hands buried in her hair, his tongue sliding against her lips. Ben’s body clenches with want at the slick sounds of their mouths.

“Good?” Hansel asks when he pulls away, before pulling Ben towards them, inviting him in. Hansel and Ben are chest to chest and Gretel nibbles on Ben’s ear.

“Is it good?” she whispers.

Ben beams.

“Yes,”

He could say something like ‘it’s a fantasy come true’ or ‘I love you’ but his mouth becomes very busy.

+++

When they return to the campsite they find out that Edward, as it turns out, does not have innate troll skills for cooking. The food is a blackened mess.

They don't bother adding Edward's initial to the die but the troll doesn't seem bothered by this fact.

+++

 


End file.
